


Pride Goeth Before

by helvel



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Wooing, mutually assured destruction, starkiller social committee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 19:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16666630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helvel/pseuds/helvel
Summary: Hux forbids Kylo Ren from attending the Starkiller Officers' Ball. Why did he think that would work?





	Pride Goeth Before

**Author's Note:**

> On oldie here - this was my first Kylux fic, written somewhere in the realm of February 2016.

The day passes as a model of the perfect efficiency Hux has designed for Starkiller Base. Construction is progressing just as planned. Operations in the Command Centre run so smoothly that the officers are like living extensions of the weapon itself. Everything is perfect; pristine; magnificent.

It should be an ideal opportunity for Hux to marvel at the glory of his rising empire. Instead, he latches onto every distraction he can find, anything, _anything_ to delay the inevitable conversation with Ren.

When he can truly put it off for no longer, he brings up the tracking map on his holopad. The blinking red indicator is whirling around access hallway C12 in smooth arcs, movements so controlled and measured that it almost appears to be dancing. _Almost._ Hux knows better.

He knows, as well, what awaits him in access hallway C12, and he's proven correct when he arrives. Kylo Ren is not in the midst of wanton destruction, but in the aftermath of it; a still-sparking service droid has been beheaded and Ren is elbow deep in its hull, pulling out wires in what appears to be a random fashion.

In an effort towards civility, Hux withholds his remarks.

"I've come to speak to you about the Officers' Ball tonight," he says instead.

Ren pauses from disemboweling the droid and lifts a masked stare towards Hux.

"Yes," he agrees.

There's something not quite right about the word. Even with the voice modulation of the helmet, yes does not sound like it's merely assent for the conversation to continue.

"Yes?" Hux clarifies.

"You're asking me to accompany you to the ball," Ren says, " _Yes._ "

Hux intends to let out a huff of derisive laughter. What comes out instead is a high-pitched sound that he's never heard himself make before.

"I'm- I'm asking you to _leave,_ " he splutters, before composing himself again. "Your presence is unnerving to the officers. I want you off-base for the full evening."

Hux is too familiar with the inner workings of Ren's mind to be unnerved by the expressionless stare of the mask, but Hux hopes to avoid the tantrum brewing beneath it.

"I've taken the liberty of filing departure clearance for your ship. You've also been granted a discretionary sum." Hux draws the credit stick from his coat and extends it to Ren. It's possible that money is of no value to the Knight, but if Ren subscribes to any of the vices that most men do, Hux hopes to ensure that he has the means to indulge himself. Somewhere in another system, that is.

Ren does not take the offered credit stick.

"Who are you going to the ball with?" he asks.

Hux's eye twitches, but he's relieved that Ren has stopped plucking information directly from his thoughts. "I will go alone. In my position, I cannot be seen picking favorites among my subordinates."

Ren's head tilts to the side. Oddly, no storm seems to be brewing behind the shiny visor of his helmet. He's taking the order in a shockingly mature way, and that in itself is more unsettling than anything Ren has done before.

"You're to be gone by tonight, Ren," Hux says. He leaves the credit stick on a railing before turning to stride away down the corridor.

* * *

From a theoretical perspective, Hux understands that social diversions such as the Officers' Ball are thought to serve as a team building opportunity for the officers. He privately disagrees. He would not attend at all, were he not obligated to set a behavioral example for his subordinates, and it's only with the utmost reluctance that he arrives at the ball.

Most of the officers on base are already present, looking polished and respectable in their dress uniforms. A mild fervour rippled through them all day, and it's a relief to find that they've not allowed this excitement to manifest into extravagant dress code violations. Still, Hux cannot help but notice several officers wearing boots that, while technically passing for regulation-height heels, are certainly not standard. He resists the urge to conduct a formal inspection, but when he sees Lieutenant Mitaka, he has no choice but to command the young lieutenant to visit the refresher and sort out his over-coiffed hair.

With these few exceptions, order reigns at the ball, and Hux must admit it's one of the more pleasant affairs he's been forced to attend. The Starkiller Social Committee (having survived Hux's ruthless cuts to their budget) made the most of the empty hangar that serves as their hall. The exterior door is open to allow a view of the night sky, distant galaxies only slightly distorted by the magnetic containment field that keeps out the planet's bitterly cold atmosphere. Service droids with trays of drinks glide amongst the officers and visiting officials, and a small band is playing old Imperial music. No one is dancing. This is another relief. Hux very nearly relaxes, until he's told that they're only waiting for his speech before beginning.

Hux knows the time and place for lengthy, vitriol-fueled speeches, and when succinctness is more apt; the Officers' Ball is the latter. On a platform before the hall, he offers brief words of appreciation for the officers' dedication, before concluding with his best estimation at a grateful nod. The effect may not be fully conveyed, but it at least goes over better than the time he attempted a smile at the end of a speech.

As the crowd applauds, Hux allows his eyes to pass over the many faces turned towards him. His officers look at him with respect, and there's admiration on the faces of the few visiting officials who are present. Two chancellors raise their glasses and one of the First Order's chief sponsors is clapping heartily. Beside her, a sharply dressed princeling is-

_Is Kylo Ren._

Unmasked, Ren is hidden in plain sight amongst the officers and officials at the ball. No part of his usual Vader-tribute ensemble is present. He's dressed instead in blue regalia that looks convincingly royal, and his usually unruly hair is combed and tied into a low knot at the back of his head. He looks... there is no other word for it - he looks respectable, like a young princeling here to pledge his planet's allegiance to the First Order.

Their eyes meet for a long moment before Hux turns and strides off the platform.

The band strikes up an Imperial waltz and couples move to the dance floor. A passing droid offers Hux a glass of wine. He accepts it and very calmly takes a deep drink to hide the furious snarl his mouth has become.

After he expressly told Ren to leave - practically _asked him nicely_ \- Ren has ignored the simple command. _Damn him!_ It's no surprise that Ren defied him, but it's more than that this time. A parting in the crowd reveals the menace himself standing against the wall, shoulders hunched, scowling at everyone who comes within ten feet of him.

He's clearly not enjoying himself, which can only mean that he's come to the ball for the sole purpose of annoying Hux. He's come simply because Hux told him not to.

Whatever upper hand Ren hoped to gain, it's backfired. Hux's own distaste for social revelry is nothing compared to Ren's. He's never seen anyone look so uncomfortable in a crowd. Hux allows himself to smirk into his glass. There's always been something so satisfying about the sight of Ren suffering.

Wine glass in hand, Hux integrates himself into the crowd and resolves not to think of Ren for the rest of the evening.

It's apparently frowned upon to discuss work at a social function, but really what else is there to talk about? His officers beam as he bestows his attention on them, giving standard answers to his standard lines of small talk. It's almost enjoyable, and far preferable than any other activity Hux could partake in at the ball.

His attention is momentarily drawn to the dance floor, where couples are moving in sloppy double time. It is too early in the evening to blame the poor footwork on over-indulgence at the bar counter. Hux considers cutting the Social Committee's budget entirely, just to spare himself from witnessing anything so repulsive ever again.

That's when he sees her.

A commander from Precinct 6 is approaching, determination written on her face. Hux cannot recall her name at the moment, but he knows what she wants, and he tries not to visibly cringe. This is his least favorite part of the evening.

As a model to his subordinates, Hux is obligated to take a few turns around the floor with the officers who can muster up the courage to ask him to dance. He avoids it whenever possible but it never fails that Hux is forced to endure several turns around the room with unfamiliar partners, their hands in his own, their bodies pressed too close. His skin is already crawling.

The commander draws nearer. Suddenly, she stops. Determination fades from her face. She's frozen for a moment, and then, blinking, she turns around and wanders back into the crowd.

Strange. Perhaps she lost her nerve.

For the moment, Hux counts himself lucky to be spared the long uncomfortable minutes pressed against an officer whose name he can't recall. He turns his attention to a group of First Order sponsors and joins them at a cocktail table.

Planet-destroying super weapons don't pay for themselves, and creditors can only be stretched so thin, but there are a select few sponsors whose generosity is boundless, under the right circumstances. An invitation to the Starkiller Ball from General Starkiller himself was just the thing to flatter their egos and open their wallets. It would be highly appropriate for Hux to ask one of them to dance, but even the thought of shield upgrades and strengthened supply lines is not enough to persuade him onto the dance floor.

The sponsors are all but eating out of his hand by the time Hux notices another approaching officer.

Mitaka has sorted his hair into something more appropriate to his station, and he offers a smile to Hux as he draws near. His intentions are clear. Hux's urge to cringe at an impending turn about the dance floor is still present, but not as strong as it was with the previous unfamiliar officer. He and Mitaka work closely in the Command Centre, and though Hux knows Mitaka to have an incurable case of two left feet, their professional relationship will lessen the discomfort of having him as a partner. Hux sets down his wine glass and prepares to accept the young lieutenant's invitation.

Their eyes meet, and Mitaka's smile broadens. Then his steps falter. He stops, and his expression turns dazed. In apparent confusion, Mitaka glances around the hall for a moment before wandering back in the direction he came from.

Something very strange is going on. Hux is the most senior officer at the ball, here alone, and as much as he hates to admit, that makes him the single most appealing partner in the room. Yet he's been at the ball for over an hour, and not one officer has successfully asked him to dance.

Was it something in his speech? Is there something on his face? Or is there some other force at work?

The turn of phrase snags uncomfortably. Some other force... some other _Force_...

A shadow looms above him, startling Hux out of his thoughts. He glances upwards and finds himself the sole focus of Ren's fixed stare.

Ren appears even bigger than usual, epaulets broadening his shoulders. Seeing his face strikes Hux with an uncomfortable sense of intimacy. He's seen Ren unmasked countless times, knows his dark eyes and pouting mouth, but Ren has never revealed himself to any of the other beings in the room. It's as if Ren is standing in the room naked, and Hux is the only one who sees him.

" _General,_ " Ren says. His hand is extended, palm upturned. Hux doesn't understand the meaning of the gesture. Is Ren offering something? Directing him somewhere? It makes no sense at all, and the only way Hux can find to respond is by placing his hand in Ren's and allowing himself to be led to the dance floor.

... _What?_

Ren leads them to an open space amid the other couples. He draws Hux near with one hand on his waist. The other links with Hux's own, and Hux stares at the sight of their gloved hands together, black leather cradled in white synth-silk.

When the music begins and Ren leads them into the first steps, Hux finally shakes himself from his stupor.

" _What are you doing here?_ " he demands in a hushed whisper. If anyone overhears him, if anyone realizes that General Hux is currently in the arms of Kylo Ren, it will spell disaster. Hux forces his face into a neutral expression, and is for once glad that Ren must feel the fury radiating off him.

"You need a partner," Ren says.

"I would have had _two_ partners already, if not for your meddling," Hux growls. He should have guessed it was Ren's mind tricks dissuading Hux's potential partners. Ren had inquired about his partner before the ball started, and he must have been planning this since then. "Is this why you did it? You can't bear to allow anyone else a turn at making me miserable?"

"You would not have enjoyed dancing with either of them."

Hux lets out a low derisive laugh. "I do not enjoy dancing with _you._ "

Ren's smirk remains. He appears haughty, careless, with all the effortless elegance of high breeding.

"Perhaps," Ren says, still smirking. "But you do enjoy dancing, General."

"I told you to stay out of my head!" Hux hisses, but two uncomfortable realizations have come upon him. One, there had been no sensation of his brain matter being prodded that always came with Ren's invasions, which means that Ren's comment had been from observation. This brings him to realization two, that they are halfway through the dance and Hux has not had to think once about where to place his feet. He's followed Ren's expert lead as naturally as breathing, feet moving into the steps on their own accord.

A third realization coils around him. In the fully alphabetized list of reasons why he does not want to dance with Ren, his own distaste for dancing with an unfamiliar partner would have no place. Pressed close together, their hands joined, Hux is far too familiar with Ren to experience the usual discomfort that came when he was forced to dance with a partner he barely knew.

Their dancing position magnifies the scant height difference between them, and Hux has to crane his neck back to look up at Ren. Masked or unmasked, he's never been so close to Ren before. He's also never seen such intensity on the man's face. His steps falter.

A fourth realization: this must be what Ren's face looks like beneath his mask when he's in the interrogation room and his prey starts to break.

"You enjoy dancing," Ren says, voice low, "when you're with the _right partner._ "

Hux barely registers the swell of music at the end of the song as he finds himself quite literally swept off his feet.

The room spins. The whole planet seems to shift. The only sound Hux can hear is his own beating heart. Ren's face is very, very close.

The entire concept of time does somersaults before Ren sets him upright again. They step out of closed position, but Ren's hand remains at his waist. Hux allows himself to be led to the side of the hall. He makes some response to Ren's inquiry if he would like another drink, and a glass of wine materializes in his hand. It empties very quickly, because the room is far too warm.

" _Thank you,_ " Hux says to Ren at last, and he orders his legs not to wobble as he strides away.

He makes it all the way through the door of the refresher before fury breaks over him.

The roar of rage that tears itself from Hux's throat rattles the walls, startling two officers making out against a stall. They trip over one another as they hurry to exit the refresher. Hux howls again as he pounds his fists against the sink basin.

Ren is the most disagreeable man in the galaxy, with a carefully honed skill for driving Hux up the wall. Hux hates him. Ren stomps around like an overprivileged child, the antithesis to the very Order he's meant to command. He wastes his astonishing power on destroying expensive and difficult to repair equipment, instead of anything useful.

He's also a very fine dancer.

Hux catches sight of his reflection. Eyes wide, hair falling across his forehead, face flushed with - with fury, not the lingering flush of his lapse of sanity on the dance floor. He'd been caught off guard by Ren's guess that Hux enjoyed dancing. The look blazing in Ren's eyes had momentarily blinded him to Ren's faults, and he had certainly not nearly swooned when Ren dipped him.

A sound from the door startles him, and Hux jerks around to find that the two officers did not make it through the door before continuing their groping. They're entangled against the wall. The nearer officer has black hair, shorn into a regulation cut, but dark and wavy, and seeing a hand tangled through it makes Hux think how similar it might feel if...

Another roar of rage rips from Hux's chest and the officers finally stumble out the door.

Deep breaths are not helping. If anything, Hux feels more frazzled that ever. This was all Ren's fault. This was all just one of Ren's games to drive him up the wall.

It didn't matter. Ren can only keep up the princely facade for so long. Soon he'll expose his true self by overturning a table or choking an officer or any other such display of his complete lack of control.

Whatever Ren is playing at, Hux will outlast him. Hux did not get where he was today by giving up easily, or allowing himself to be swayed by exceptional dancing skills.

Having finally managed to compose himself, Hux fixes his hair and straightens his uniform. He brushes an invisible piece of particulate matter from his shoulder before leaving the refresher.

Several faces turn to him and quickly look away as he rejoins the ball. Perhaps the sounds of his fury had carried out into the hangar. It was no matter. Outraged bellowing has become a common enough sound around the base lately. The attention will soon pass.

Yet as Hux approaches the bar, he's struck by the sense that something is distinctly wrong. Conversations quiet as he passes, officers are attempting to sneak subtle glances at him, and in his peripheral vision, he sees someone actually point at him.

"Whiskey," he tells the service droid behind the bar.

It gives a buzz that sounds vaguely regretful. "Whiskey is not to be served at the Officers' Ball. May I interest you in a glass of Lothalian currant wine?"

Hux sighs and recites a clearance code to the droid, who gives another regretful buzz.

"On authorization of General Hux, whiskey is not to be served at the Officers' Ball," it says. "May I interest you in a glass of Lothalian currant wine?"

Great. He cannot have whiskey because he has apparently forbidden it. He seems to recall making that decree - limiting the available drink option at the ball in an effort to minimize costs and reduce the chance of overindulgence. He could progress to higher clearance codes, but he needs some sort of poison in his bloodstream too badly to bother arguing with a droid.

"The wine will do."

He nearly finishes the glass in one long drink before he senses someone at his side. Captain Phasma looks resplendent in her dress uniform, her lack of helmet somehow making her even more intimidating. She regards him with something akin to amusement.

"My, General. Is that flush from wine, or love?" she asks. Her perfectly applied lipstick frames a smile with an edge to it.

Hux allows himself to smirk into his wine glass. "You seem to have mistaken me for someone else, Captain."

"No mistake. Not after seeing a dance like _that._ "

Coldness grips Hux, like the containment field has failed and icy wind is blowing into his veins.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about,” he says.

"You and Prince Matt."

" _Prince Matt,_ " Hux repeats. Oh kriff, not this again. "I assure you that whatever rumors seem to have spread, there's absolutely nothing between us."

The mere implication is ridiculous, that Phasma has assumed this, that everyone has assumed this. Hux resists the urge to hide his face, and instead stares stoically at the middle distance.

Unfortunately, he finds that Ren has returned to skulking along the edge of the hangar like a specter. He looks as unapproachable as ever but his eyes are unmistakably fixed on Hux.

Phasma lets out a low whistle at his side. " _Damn,_ General.”

This is all Ren's fault. It's his fault for coming to the ball, it's his fault that these implications have spread. It's his fault for Hux's brief lapse in sanity that allowed him to entertain for one second that Ren was not the last man on in the galaxy who Hux could ever be prevailed on to consider.

Phasma leans in close, and says lowly in his ear, "You know what they say about good dancers..."

Hux muffles a scream. He rises from the bar and leaves the room before he loses control of his life entirely.

Passing through a containment field without a vessel is uncomfortable, but Hux risks it to escape into the cool air outside the hangar. He takes a few deep breaths, trying again to settle himself. The area is somewhat shielded from the wind and a few officers linger together as they finish off cigarras. They evidently do not notice Hux, for they continue gossiping amongst themselves.

"Did you see General Hux and Prince Matt?" one says excitedly. Another lets out a dreamy sigh.

It's unacceptable. His officers cannot be allowed to view him as soft, as something yielding. He must make a speech renouncing any involvement with this Prince Matt. Mandatory attendance, before the full base. No, that may make it worse; even acknowledging the 'prince' could make the rumor multiply. He will let it blow over on its own. The officers will surely find something new to gossip about in a few cycles. And if not... Hux eyes the surrounding mountains consideringly. Perhaps he could find a cave to hide in, at least until his order is required to fire the weapon...

He feels more than sees the presence lurking behind him. Whirling around, he finds Ren silhouetted against the light from the hangar.

Hux is sure he must look feral, but he cannot help himself as he strides forwards and grabs Ren by the lapels.

" _You've won,_ " he snarls, giving Ren a good shake, "You humiliated me in front of the entire base. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

Ren's brow furrows. "No..."

"Well you've done it!" The officers nearby are now whispering excitedly, and Hux realizes how he and Ren must look - pressed together, two lovers in a private embrace - but he doesn't think he could remove his hands from Ren's throat even if he wanted to.

"That was not my intent. I came here to tell you..."

" _What,_ Ren?"

"I came here to tell you," Ren says, with that same intensity burning in his eyes, "how ardently I admire and love you."

Hux cannot help it - he laughs. He laughs and laughs, great gasps of breath breaking free from his lungs until tears are stinging his eyes and the nearby officers are staring at him. Ren seems to think he's having a fit. He steadies Hux by the elbows, which makes Hux laugh even harder.

" _Kiss me, Prince Matt!_ " he gasps. To his great pleasure, some of Ren's usual contempt leeches back into his face. Ren's unbearable tendency to take offence at everything is at least useful in this case, for he knows he's being mocked.

"Do you doubt my feelings?" he demands, voice rising. The air around them crackles with his anger, an almost pleasant warmth in the cool night.

Hux removes one hand from Ren's throat to wipe away some of the moisture that clings to his eye. "Ren," he says, trying to compose himself, "Is it possible you've forgotten that we cannot be in the same room together without tearing at one another? Have you forgotten the several occasions where we've literally tried to kill one another?"

" _Exactly!_ " Ren agrees loudly. "That's _passion._ Directed to anger, it's powerful. Directed to love..." The air crackles around them, and the fury in Ren's face twists into a smile. "It would drive us to madness, and we would be unstoppable."

Hux is sure he can see empires blazing in Ren's eyes. Ren leans in towards him. Hux very nearly considers it. In the end, he has to crane his head very far back to prevent Ren's lips from touching his own.

"You are a fool," he says pointedly.

Ren shrugs, as if to say _so what?_ Hux's grip on his neck tightens.

“You disobeyed my order not to come to the ball. You meddled with those who wished to dance with me. And then you cast some spell over me to make me look like a lovesick fool in front of all my officers." Hux isn't sure if that last one is Ren's fault, but he decides to blame him anyway. He squeezes Ren's throat. "Tell me, Ren. Is this really how you think I wish to be wooed?”

Revolting creature that he is, Ren becomes more and more smug with every grievance Hux lays against him.

"We both got what we wanted," he says.

"And what's that, exactly?" Hux asks, seething.

"Your hands around my throat."

Hux is horrified to feel his cheeks growing hot. Damn him! Hux has not blushed since he was a schoolboy, and even then it had turned out to be a skin irritation.

This is exactly why this idea is so absurd. Hux had long ago abandoned personal attachments in favor of advancing himself in his career. Yet against his better judgement, this galactic disaster has worked himself under Hux's skin, and is now propositioning what, exactly?

The nearby officers still watch them with interest, thanks to the wildfire rumor that General Hux was in love with a mysterious prince. He refuses to be the center of their gossip.

"I cannot allow it," Hux says, with a low huff, "I cannot allow my officers to think I'm a fool."

Ren turns to them, casting his mind in their direction. "They like the idea of their General having someone he cares for," he observes from their thoughts. "But if it bothers you… they will forget."

With a wave of Ren's hand, dazed looks come over the group of officers, and they stumble off in different directions.

Hux has seen that mind trick several times before. He's seen it several times this very evening. "Could you do that on a larger scale?" he asks.

Ren follows his gaze into the hangar, where the ball continues. He understands what Hux is asking, and shakes his head. "There are too many minds. Expending that kind of power could kill me."

"So you're saying you _can_ do it."

Ren narrows his eyes.

"There's another way," he says.

"To ensure that I haven't ruined myself entirely tonight?" Hux contemplates it. "If you could ensure that, I would… I would _consider_ another dance with you."

Ren's gaze turns back to him, with those dark eyes that are more captivating than ever.

"You should publicly execute me," Ren says.

It's the most appealing thing Ren has said all evening, possibly in all of time, and it effectively piques Hux's interest.

" _Go on._ "

* * *

The trick is simple enough for Ren. _Similfuturus,_ he calls it, but to Hux it means that the next day, Prince Matt is dragged before an assembly of Starkiller's crew, while the real Kylo Ren stands menacingly nearby, back in his Vader costume.

The doppelganger takes death nobly. With the barrel of Hux's pistol pressed to his head, Prince Matt proclaims his foolishness at trying to double-cross the First Order, and he should have known he could never succeed in swaying the General's allegiances. He's just beginning to apologize for despoiling the virtue of their fearless leader when Hux pulls the trigger.

Blaster fire echoes over the silent crowd. Hux does not need to be Force-sensitive to feel their satisfaction. He had been right to assume the rumors surrounding his relationship with the so-called Prince Matt would spread quickly, as had the outrage upon finding that the prince tried to betray their General.

Standing over his lifeless body, Hux appears as more than a jilted lover. He is fiercer than before, allowing no mercy for any defiance of the First Order, even from someone he once cared for.

Prince Matt's lifeless body awaits disposal as Hux strides back towards the base. Officers fall back behind him, but Ren materializes at his side.

"You enjoyed that too much," Ren says.

"Perhaps," Hux agrees, amused. The execution was certainly satisfying. What's more, it seems that the opportunity to murder Ren without having to deal with the consequences from Snoke might have been just the thing he needed to begin to consider the man beside him in an entirely new light.

Several steps ahead of them, the doors to Starkiller Base slide open and they enter together. Hux allows a rare smile to grace his face. If love really did drive you to madness, they're well on their way to a love affair that could bring the galaxy to its knees.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on twitter: [@helvellum](https://twitter.com/helvellum)


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